Scars
by Lost Sapphires
Summary: Moon light broke through the clouds, illuminating angry red scars on Hermione's lower arm. He froze, transfixed. He stared at the marks. "Mudblood" crudely etched into ivory skin. One-Shot. DM/HG


OMG, this took a long time to get out. This started swirling in my head the night I saw DH: part1 and it just kept on swirling...

Anywho! Not mine, Don't sue! Enjoy! R&R!

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The wind was icy cold; far too cold to be sitting in a crumbling tower alone in the middle of the night. But, here she was alone wrapped in her cloak, with her feet dangling over the edge of the remaining flagstone floor staring out across a starless sky. At this hour, with the rest of the world asleep, it seemed impossible that the War had been anything more than an upsetting story. Little more than the fading memory of a nightmare. But, of course she knew better.

She heard the footsteps, but she didn't even turn to look. It was probably someone just passing at the bottom of the stairwell. Nobody ever came here. Why would they? The Tower was out of bounds, the site of a war, of death and murder and a hundred atrocities. Why would anyone want to be there? Most of the time she couldn't understand why she was there; why she would sit there amid the dust and desolation, listening to silence and watching the darkness descend. She almost felt that she was waiting. Waiting for a sign that the War was truly over. She never seemed to find one.

The footsteps were closer now. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see Flinch or one of the Professors ready to reprimand her for setting such a poor example. She frowned. The few moon beams that strayed from behind the clouds illuminated silvery hair and pale skin. Standing there in the crumbling tower he could have been mistaken for a ghost; a tragic victim of the great battle. She considered the idea for a moment. Perhaps, he was. Perhaps, they all were nothing but ghosts now.

"Granger?" The voice was unmistakable, but far too loud, shattering the silence of her sanctuary.

"What do you want Malfoy?" She sighed exasperated. Turning back towards the darken horizon. Couldn't he just leave her alone.

"They're looking for you" He told her simply. "Potter and Weasley."

"Let them" she muttered.

He shrugged, and turned to leave just as the moon light broke through the clouds again, illuminating angry red scars on the Hermione's lower arm. He froze, transfixed. He stared at the marks. "Mudblood" crudely etched into ivory skin. "Does it hurt?" It was a whisper released before his mind could act to stop him.

Her head spun to look at him. Following his gaze to where it was still focused on her arm. She pulled her arm close to her chest, out of his scrutinizing gaze. "Does yours?" she snarled, inclining her head towards his arm, where, hidden beneath his sleeve lay his own mark.

"Sometimes" he answered honestly, fingers clenching in and out of a fist at the thought of the pain. The action did not go unnoticed.

"Flesh memory." Her voice was a whisper, the anger at the intrusive topic, somewhat lessened at the honesty of his answer.

Draco's brow furrowed at her words.

"Only hurts because I can remember what it felt like when... " she trailed off. Her voice and gaze drifting away, her scared arm still clutched against her chest.

Silence descended. She didn't say another word, too lost in her own thoughts. The memories swirling in her mind. Perhaps if she ignored him he'd simply go away. Perhaps, she could do the same with the memories.

Behind her there was a rustle of fabric, but out of the corner of her eye she could see that he did not leave. Instead he sank to the ground, back pressed against one of the few remaining walls in the crumbling building. He sat there, watching her, while she refused to look at him.

"Can't you get rid of it?" he asked, voice soft now, just a breath carried on the winter breeze.

She shook her head softly, sending gentle ripples through the waterfall of curls that cascaded down her back. "Tried. That dagger that Bel..." She paused again, choking on the word. It caused her throat to close and tears to burn the corners of eyes. She swallowed, refusing to allow tears to fall in the presence of Draco Malfoy. "That _she_ had, it looked normal, but it wasn't. It won't heal properly... never will."

She stared at the scars, tracing over them with her finger. "Shouldn't you be happy about it Malfoy? My scars? You always loved your labels, didn't you? Pureblood, Half-Breed, _Mudblood_. Well, now I'm marked for all to see. No hiding now."

She studied him, scrutinizing every detail. Remembering how much she used to hate him for what he called her, the taunts and jeers. She didn't hate him anymore. She couldn't. Hate was how she felt about Bellatrix, about the Death Eaters who had murdered her friends, about Voldemort. That was hate, bitter, bile in your throat hate. What she felt for Draco wasn't anything like that. In fact it wasn't anything at all. He was just another person, trying to exist in a shattered reality. This wasn't their world anymore. Their world was long gone, lost in days of childish bickering. This was the Aftermath. This was Purgatory. The place between Heaven and Hell. This was nothingness.

They sat their together in silence for longer than either of them could rightly determine, listening to the wind whistle through the gaps in the walls. Both engrossed in the own thoughts. Each battling their own inner demons.

"I'm sorry"

She turned slowly. They had both been silent so long she wasn't entirely convinced he'd spoken at all. But, when she met his gaze, piercing blue eyes stared right through her.

"That night" he continued, "I was there."

"I know" she whispered.

"I should have done something"

Her eyes went wide and for a second it felt like the world had stopped. Time froze as those words echoed through the Tower.

"I...I..." He stumbled over his words, before meeting her eyes again. "It just happened so fast."

She could hear him breathing, erratic and ragged. He stared right through her as if looking into some other place, as if some horrid scene lay in front of him. She knew what that scene was; she could see it in her own mind. She shivered.

"Suddenly you were there and you were was so much blood and Bella was laughing and I" His voice caught, she heard him swallow, choking on the words. "I just... I wanted it to stop. To tell them it wasn't you. Not really. That you couldn't be Hermione Granger. But, I couldn't. I just stood there, watching, too afraid of the risk to do anything... Slytherin Coward." He shook his head, laughed. A cruel, cold laugh. "Some stereotypes are never wrong."

"Malfoy?" she started, the word barely audible, just a breath escaping into the night air. She wanted to say something, anything to make him stop. But, he didn't let her, just carried on with his confession.

"I dreamt about it." He looked away, raising his eyes to the heavens, no longer able to face the memory."Over and over for months. All I could see was blood. Your blood... But then it's really all the same isn't it? Blood? Yours. Mine. All the same."

She sat there staring at him, frozen in place. Overwhelmed by what she had just heard.

"You're right though. We're marked now, labelled. But, at least you're labelled a hero. The Golden girl of the Golden Trio. What about me? What am I? A monster? The Devil? I'm always going to be the villain."

She shook her head, "you're not" Tears stung her eyes "I don't think you're the villain"

He smiled, a small, sad smile. "Maybe you should."

She studied him. Trying to figure out what to say next. This had all become a bit too much. She had come here to escape all the drama that returning to Hogwart's after the War had dug up; only to have Draco Malfoy dump more into her lap than she could comprehend. She had felt nothing for him. But now...

"Why did you come here?" She asked. "Why did tell me this?"

He shrugged, "Because you're here."

She bit her lip, feeling more uncomfortable than she had in her entire life. "That's not an answer" she told him sternly, he was destroying every emotional wall she had built since the Battle. And he had no reason, no right! He couldn't do just because she was here. More importantly, he couldn't do if she wasn't here. She moved to stand.

"Don't" he reached out to her. Fingers grazing across her arm, before he quickly retracted them. "I came here because..." He stopped studying her again, as her eyes searched his. "This is the only place I didn't mess up. I didn't kill him...I couldn't! He believed there was some part of me that was still good." He sniggered under his breath, smiling "Ridiculous really. The only person who ever believed I had a soul was an old coot!"

"Dumbledore wasn't..." She stopped midsentence, he was watching her again, amused by her instinctive defence.

"I'm kidding Granger... It's actually kinda nice knowing someone believed in me."

Silence fell between them again. The wind whistling through the gaps in the stones.

"Why are you here?" he asked gently.

"Because no else usually is" The crazy thing was she wanted to tell him, after everything he had said she wanted him to know. She wanted him to have an explanation, just as he had felt he had owed her an apology.

She bit her lip "You really want to know?" He nodded, smile gone, he was serious. She looked away, up towards the sky. "I read a book once, a story, and it said that there were a million different worlds, and the only difference between them was one decision. One choice someone made differently. Here, in the dark, the world seems so big and for a moment I can convince myself it could be true. And if it is, if there are a million different worlds, and a million different me's, then maybe, maybe one of them is happy. Maybe there's a world where parents didn't watch their children die, and there aren't babies who never know their parents and maybe," There were tears in her eyes, blinding her vision, catching in her throat. "Maybe there's a world where there was no war...and I don't have to sit alone in a tower wishing."

The tears fell, as an icy hand reached out for hers and for some reason when he pulled her to him, she went. Burying her head against his chest and letting the tears fall.

"It's just fairy stories" He whispered into her hair.

She stared up at him, shining eyes and dark lashes. "I used to think this was a fairy story, witches and wizards and magic. This was a fairy story once."

"It doesn't matter." He told her gently. "Even if there are a million different worlds, we still have to live in this one. We don't get to choose."

She looked away, her head still at his chest. She could hear his heart beating. Definitely not a ghost then.

"It'll get better." He promised. And for a crazy second she believed him. She was standing in a crumbling monument, holding on to Draco Malfoy as if she would die if she let go, it couldn't exactly get worse.

He smiled down at her, blue eyes glinting in the reappearing moonlight. He raised a hand to her face brushing away an errant tear. It lingered there a moment too long, tracing the line of her cheek, pushing away fallen curls.

She searched his eyes, trying to decipher what thoughts were swirling in his mind.

"A million different worlds." He whispered, considering the words, eyes still locked with hers. "You think in any of those worlds we might have been... _friends_?"

"Fairy stories" she smiled sadly.

He nodded slowly. "Still, could have been something else though? Your brains and my"

She cut him off "Arrogance?"

He smirked. "_brilliance_, actually"

She smiled for a second.

He sighed. "We really got the rough end of the stick didn't we?"

She bit her lip and shook her head, a giggle threatening to erupt from the back of her throat. "This is ridiculous" She exclaimed pulling away from him.

"What?"

"This! ...Whoever thought I'd be wallowing in self pity with Draco Malfoy?"

"I'm not _wallowing_" he retorted.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Then what do you call it?"

"Reality" He answered simply.

Silence descended again, each watching the other.

"I should go" She said, moving towards the door. He grabbed he arm stopping her.

"I meant what I said" His voice was so sincere, so honest, she swore she had never heard him so before. "It _will_ get better."

She nodded and he released her arm. She reached the top step and paused, turning back to him once more.

"I thought it would never change. This world. That it would never get better. No matter what they say, no matter what they write in the paper, you're not a monster. You're not even close, not really. I've seen monsters. They still haunt my dreams sometimes. But they are not you, and you are not them. So I believe you. It'll get better. And when it does, we'll be ok. We'll survive; even if that's all we can do."

She turned again.

"Hermione"

She froze. He had never called her that. Not once. She turned slowly, to face him. "Yeah?"

He licked his lips, opening his mouth to speak, and then as if deciding against some initial thought, he seemed sadly resigned as he spoke "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Draco"

And then she left.

xxxx

Many stories are told at Hogwart's; some speak of great battles and lost wars, murdered heros and hated villains. Some are the lingering echoes of those who once walked the halls, while some are simply petty gossip.

There are many stories in the annals of Hogwarts.

But, one tells of how on a dark winter's night, not long after the greatest of battles, in the furthest, most isolated corner of the castle, past enemies met, and spoke of tragedy, loss and fear.

That night no alliances were sworn, no deep seethed love proclaimed, no treaties signed.

But it was that one night that changed everything.

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Like it, Hate it?

R&R...

Specifically are they very OOC? I tried to avoid it, but I think it happened anyway!

XOXO


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